Izime rubbed at his chest while he watched the feed from Cradle, kicking his feet lazily against the side of the water tank that was his seat.

  He was still working off some of the effects of last night's dreams as he tried to take it a bit easier. Quietly reminding himself that it wasn't like the bird was doing all the work, he had done the heavy lifting today. Snapping those tanks of toxin out had been the biggest haul in months and well worth the risk of sticking around now.

  The ensuing chaos should make it easier for Cradle to traverse the lower levels and showing up before the action had really kicked off had ensured they'd optimized their haul. He had no concerns about the goons below, what was a bullet to Cradle but a slightly faster snack?

  Well, there were a bit like a flying turd according to the bird, the cheap copper jacket and soft lead were a terrible-tasting treat.

  "Biggest haul in Voltham yet," Izime patted himself on the back while he watched the two heroes. His vision enhanced enough to see the folds in Stupid Purple's cape as long as there was nothing in the way. Congratulating himself as Cradle went to work, "Here we go!"

  What even was the use of that cape, show maybe?

  Izime pondered the thessian's silver suit for a moment while Cradle got shot at watching as the white wrapped around her crouched form.

  Dark Night used his as an emergency glider, and Dark Scout preferred a collapsible variant so he only appeared cape-less. Was there some rule that demanded a cape if you were an X-type hero or what?

  They each were horrible litterers with their grappling hooks so maybe that was a part of it.

  Izime kept kicking around in his ponderings, waiting for the two to leave so he could get the one Dark Squire had used to get onto the roof.

  Psyis could fly, so what was it for? Looks, personal preference, symbology?

  Though Psyis didn't even use gadgets, only her pure alien abilities so that littering theory didn't work either. That suit as well, silver and white felt like a cop-out color scheme. Wasn't there some kind of color-changing fabric that could match her reactionary skin? She'd look even better if her mottling was revealed all over instead of just teased.

  He stopped his thoughts as he sent his own updates to his much more mobile and metal-hungry friend who was down below removing the pumps. Izime felt his smile pushing at the edges of his gas mask as Cradle's excitement reached him through the bond.

  A screen displaying in his vision through either brain trickery or eye nanites showed Cradle's beak working at a shoddy welding job as Izime started to update the raven.

  We've got two heroes now.

  Money? Money?

  Yeah, it's money money Cradle!

  How much longer on those pumps?

  Fast! Fast!

  The view flicked quickly through a series of pipes too close together for Cradle to fly through. The bird probably changing to its clouded form as it landed next to another pump. Beak and talon reappeared to quickly chip the heat-treated steel as it removed another high-flow pump.

  The view quickly switched as Cradle's head turned upwards with a snap as if it had been distracted by something.

  Stupid Purple!

  Y-Yeah she is here why?

  Are you scanning the topside?

  Pets Pets! Below!

  Izime narrowed his eyes as he glanced back up and across the facility at the psychic. Izime caught a view of Dark Squire just as he did an excessively showy backflip off the roof, wasting another grapple that would likely never see the right hands. Not that he cared about the grapple that much.

  They had bigger issues if Dark Squire's movements were in any relation to Cradle's accusation of 'pets'. If it was just Dark Squire, then the guy was sadly way out of his league against Cradle. It would be a no-contest as Cradle happily collected his Dark-a-Rangs and other goodies.

  Cradle's words implied that it had been located somehow by the alien or was close to it. His bond relayed the constant pulses that were tickling even it's down under its larger protective feathers.

  The real problem was the psychic that had somehow been alerted to their presence. There was no reason for her to play Depth Commander unless she suspected something and Izime knew who the only unknown on the field was.

  Cradle was damned near flawless and there was hardly a signal or creature here it wasn't aware of. Izime trusted his gut and trusted Cradle's abilities, if he said the psychic was petting it then the gig was up. If Miss Psyis could track Cradle that opened up an entire can of big fucking worms and threw it on his plans in Voltham not to mention Centropolis.

  If she could somehow restrain his bond?

  That would mean a confrontation, possibly hostile and there went every Christmas not just this one. A fight was something he certainly didn't want with the mind-reader. Izime scooched back from the edge of the tank and stood preparing to take action. Pausing for half a second as he looked back across the way, just in time to see Stupid Purple striking a sprinting pose in his direction.

  Izime's heart stopped as two red eyes locked onto his teals.

  "Nope." Izime eyes widened, a bit surprised at the snort of fear that had come out. He snapped out of the alien's line of sight and immediately reappeared down below in the mix of the chaos.

  Fuck being in any clear line of sight of that absolute powerhouse, Izime breathed a bit easier even knowing the toxic fumes were coming. He had less than zero interest in getting super-tackled so hard it had to be measured in AU's.

  The confines of the system of pipes and levels of scaffolding made it a much safer place at the moment. At least here the pipes would hopefully catch a speeding bullet or flying psychic before they caught him.

  Izime let out a low humming whistle to summon Cradle to his side.

  It was safer but he'd rather be in top form, especially after seeing the biggest hitter here tonight line up on him. That meant as much awareness as possible seeing as he wasn't nearly as physically capable. Izime watched through the pipes as sparks from ricochets followed his bond, the bullets themselves useless on the bird.

  Only an acceptable snack if they were cored with heavy rare metals like tungsten or depleted uranium.

  Raising his arm as Cradle slipped through the last few pipes, landing on his arm before snapping again. A level lower. Snapping again and another level lower, snapping again to a scaffold a row of tanks over. Finally finding a decent starting point he directed his bond to begin feeding information through the connected line they had just cleared.

  Their mental flow was no longer flushed with junk emotions and idle brain chatter, now filled with locations, distances, and schematics.

  Bring up all the pump locations.

  As well as villains and goons.

  Spots and Dots!

  Damn straight, time to earn that cash!

  Work! Money! Eat!

  Izime mentally moved the mini-map that Cradle connected him to, dragging it with his mind out of his main field of vision. Taking stock of all the red dots that indicated the goons and the single skull that was roaming around further below.

  The map tilted to display the levels individually, the goons working their way down while FearForm was working his way up.

  Finally, a second red skull appeared as the map reached far enough to display The Quiz topside.

  "At least I can't throw up anymore." Izime shrugged bending over to snag the compact high-flow pump that was lying on the scaffolding next to him while looking below. The thick billowing clouds of fear toxin were creating a dense haze that was slowly climbing its way upwards. The dense fog condensed into a rusty amber taint as it rose into the chill November air, leaving streaks running down the primer-ed tanks.

  Izime almost able to make out the incoherent enraged roars of FearForm as he discovered the damaged pumps one by one.

  "Track Stupid Purple, if she moves to come down here, we are leaving." Izime directed his bond before giving Cradle a flick to send it off. A single blue shield appeared on the scan, the mapping fully enabled it was time for them to get to business.

  Jumping over the side of the scaffolding, giving a snap and disappearing in a shower of sparks as Cradle went scout further.

  Izime let the air pass him for a moment as he reappeared falling mid-air, locking onto a nearby gangway of metal grating that would take him to another pump. Another snap saw him bracing and snapping, grabbing the edge of his coat so he didn't land on it.

  Landing with a thud Izime let go of his coat now sure that the friction-less material was well out of the way.

  Rolling to his feet Izime started running down the gangway, constantly keeping a mental note of the closest dots on the map. His rapid breathing slowly fogged his mask, making it a bit difficult to see. Causing him to fumble a bit as added two more pumps to his pants pockets.

  The tiny things were powerful and would be perfect for reselling on the spaceship market. The little bastards could easily supply fuel, coolant, or whatever have you to pump. Their size and reliability certainly beat out their competitors on the market as well. It was easy money, but the risks were certainly climbing.

  Looking across the way and down another level Izime saw a goon trying to steal some of his loot, reaching to pick up one of the pumps.

  A snap and a shove later the goon was sent tumbling over the safety rail, Izime not bothered to be disturbed but the sound it made when the man's body collided with the side of a filtration unit below. Grabbing the pump while he glanced down and watched the puddle of red grow bigger, he'd been there it'd sucked.

  "Fucking ass, hands off our loot." Izime felt the smile he had vanish, even as another pump found its way into his pants pocket.

  The dots were beginning to cluster and organize, much faster than he had originally planned for. The Quiz's gang of Students had been much better trained than your usual run-of-the-mill hench. There were plenty more to go but Izime wasn't going to risk going into the real fight or any of the clusters of dots waiting to the side.

  FearForm had found Dark Squire and the two were settling their issues below.

  The red skull having not moved far from where it had dropped down, at least Stupid Purple had enough sense to stay topside and call for back-up.

  Unfortunately, so had The Quiz and the villains had been faster. Izime checked the other red skull on his mini-map; the one that wasn't The Quiz topside or FearForm below. A bit of sweat dripped down his neck as he recalled his earlier plans on just how he would escape the synthroid-addicted wrestler Crusher.

  Izime really, really hoping he could snap his fingers faster than Crusher could snap his spine if it came down to it.

  Quickly shaking his head, clearing it of those silly thoughts about self-preservation. Maybe that fear toxin was getting to him a little bit. What was death but another wasted trip for him?

  The yellow coat billowed out a bit as Izime strode forward, no longer bothering with processing things like fear of impending death. More attention was paid to the cluster of pumps Cradle had made for him to collect while he had been snagging the stragglers.

  It hadn't worked the first time because of some science-fucketry, the second time Cradle had saved him. What would it be like to finally just die? Though he'd been bamboozled twice now so he wasn't very excited about his third time around, it was pretty hard to kill what he was after all.

  That lack of attention cost Izime dearly on his next snap, quickly making a note to have Cradle highlight all the heroes on the map.

  Izime's spell dropped him directly behind Dark Squire who was mid-recovery from being thrown up three levels by FearForm. No longer below throwing down with the fear-powered villain. The biggest tell was the massive dent in the side of the water tank above the two, the distance reached through FearForm's suit-strengthed toss.

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  Izime flowing with Dark Squire's expected response at having an unknown assailant pop up unexpectedly, he rolled with the hit.

  Steven couldn't hear much besides his ears ringing, the only sign that something was there being the cascade of sparks. Twisting his core as he leaped back to his feet Steven only saw a yellow coat and the cylinder of a mask filter before he sent a kick at the henchman. Fully expecting to feel the contact of a solid midsection kick and the grunt of a goon flying.

  The satisfying sound of another goon going down didn't come, Dark Squire's eyes going wide as his kick slid uselessly and almost painfully off their midsection. Dark Squire's ankle twisting oddly as the force was misplaced. The only effect on his target was the kick spinning them to the side, delivering a bit of redirected momentum but no other force. Watching as that yellow-coated figure rolled with the kick and right off the side of the scaffold.

  Disappearing in another shower of sparks before it had even fallen a full foot, those foggy lenses still locked onto Dark Squire's hidden glowing eyes.

  Izime grunted as he landed on his stomach, a few levels down and a bit further back where another pump had been earlier. Taking the unexpected kick and letting Thorn's frictionless textiles redirect it. The main impact redirected, Izime had cheated a good half of Newton's laws, but it'd still spun him with all the force Dark Squire had put behind it. Taking the tumble and snapping back had been the safe bet.

  Now Izime was back a good way, irritated but safe and only a bit sore. The problem now was Dark Squire was right on top of the pumps he wanted. Hearing his bond Izime recalled the thought he'd had earlier about marking all the heroes properly on the map. Between his human brain, previous abilities, and Cradle's own advanced functions they'd almost make a decent functional A.I., almost.

  Owie? Hurt?

  Just an owie Cradle.

  A bruised rib is all.

  Be good! No fight! No Fight!

  Mark all heroes, please.

  I just ran into Dark Squire.

  Don't run. We fly!

  Izime sent the feeling of his pure gratitude back through the bond instead of bothering with cheap verbal thanks as three blue shield icons joined the map. Taking stock of their locations and the projected paths Cradle was displaying Izime found his feet as he considered his bond's advice on fleeing.

  Three heroes, three villains, and their accompanying goon squads were spread about the various levels of the water filtration facility.

  Things were getting a bit dicey and considering the tanks of toxin Izime was beginning to doubt if the remaining pumps were worth it. Right up until he remembered where he wanted to sell them. Those generation ships didn't have dry docks anymore; their maintenance was of the highest priority to their inhabitants.

  The toxin was fun money, the pumps would be a good sale but a better deed. Izime now stretching the kinks and knots out as he refocused on the prize. The cluster of pumps would be his and then it was time for extract no questions asked.

  First, who was where?

  FearForm was tangling with Dark Squire again, while The Quiz was... fighting Dark Night?

  That left the rage-buffed synth-roid-fueled physical fighter against the psychic alien. Izime ground his teeth as he watched the marker for Stupid Purple flying. Izime quickly formed an idea that would keep Crusher tied up for a bit while he gathered the pumps he could. It would put Cradle in the spotlight for a moment, then he'd need to put Crusher down for a bit, but it was the safest option to keep the psychic away from the toxin.

  Cradle give me the odds,

  Stupid Purple against Crusher.

  Purple Big Win.

  Chances she does it flawlessly,

  Not touching the cloud of fear gas?

  Crusher Big Win

  OK Change of plans Cradle,

  We are fixing their fuck up.

  No Fight No Fight No Fi-

  We are not fighting,We are fixing problems.

  ….

  Izime felt a complicated mix of both expectation and resistance as Cradle seemed to be considering their mutual thoughts.

  Filling his end with considerations about the loot, and the devastation that Miss Psyis could cause. Finally, a bit of reluctant acceptance leaked through the bond, Izime silently holding his own emotions as Cradle considered. A full-on yes was not being spoken but it was there all the same, Izime began to lay out the plot.

  OK here's the plan.

  Miss Psyis Vs. Crusher

  A purple hand clenched as psychic forces snagged another piece of machinery out of the air. Psyis' white hair flowed wildly while she tried to stop the physical attacks and break into the shielded mind of Crusher.

  Her more insidious powers of suggestion failed to breach the synth-roids that were being supplied directly to his mind.

  Across from her stood the massive giant of an ex-wrestler, Crusher. The naturally built strongman stood in his dark red wrestler's outfit turned villainous attire. Spandex stretched across massive arms and a thick gut.

  The easily nine-foot body was fueled not only by years of being a professional shoot and Greco-Roman wrestler but by those hoses of neon green synth-roids that only pushed the man's strength and rage further. A potent mixture of synthetic steroids and a cocktail of hormones and drugs that were constantly pumped through the pack on the man's back.

  With this, the already notorious wrestler stepped well into the ranks of Voltham's villains through the chemical aid.

  "ARGH!" Crusher roared in irritation, watching as the control unit he had thrown was plucked out of the air, taking the other and slamming it into his head to clear it from the purple whore's sneaky tendrils. "You can't get in my head, NO!"

  The metal doing no damage, simply adding to the pain and anger. The thick tar of wrath blocked out the thoughts of slowing, stopping, no longer feeling that growing moment of hesitation.

  Crusher balled the machine up between his fists, stomping forward now back into the fight fully, a simple plan forming to sneak past that purple whore's stupid shields.

  Taking a deep breath Crush took the ball of metal and slammed it into a nearby cistern of water, the side bursting and sending a stream of brown water at the heroine. Taking the moment where she was too distracted by the halting the flow to charge forward, Crusher reared back twisting his core for maximum power and pain.

  Delivering a heavy blow with a fist that was easily the size of the alien woman's entire midsection. Crusher smiled beneath his mask as he felt the alien's smaller body react, odd bones and spine curling against his before she was sent flying.

  Too bad her super-strengthened body could easily take the punishment. The strike probably hurt his hand more than her, but it still sent her flying back and through the control building topside. Crusher knew he didn't have to kill her to take her out of the fight, just physically restraining the alien was a win and would earn the synth-roids FearForm had offered.

  "AHAHA!" Crusher felt more of the potent artificial chemicals flood his veins, amplifying every single thing he had just felt and seen as Miss Psyis had been tossed away.

  The absolute joy of her surprised look, that brief flash of pain when her body met brick. That bit of wetness to her eyes told Crusher the alien had felt that one as well. The dust particles in the air settled like windswept ash casting a shadow as bits fell still inside.

  The scene would have been perfect if it hadn't been for that bird.

  The synthetically induced brain stopped its maniacal laughter quickly, blinking as it looked up. Crusher's mind tried to make sense of the shifting black feathers that were highlighted by the lighter clouds of dust sent into the darkness above Voltham. Wondering for a moment if his attempt to knock the psychic's influence from his mind had failed.

  Their dance mesmerized him for a brief moment until he shook free of that as well.

  Wiping at the lenses set into the facemask of his roid-pack, watching in confusion as the feathers seemed to still, poised and threatening. The answer as to its existence came as a couple of those feathers came flying towards him, instinct forcing his arms up to protect his face.

  The blood those flying knives had drawn told him it was real, not some psychically induced image or another synthroid-induced hallucination.

  Their blades slipped though too sharp, almost painlessly, but deep enough that if he'd been a smaller man that might have cost an arm. The wrestler's eyes went wide enraged at being caught so easily and harmed so deeply. The black knives however were quickly followed by a mass of bricks from his side, Crusher paying doubly the distraction.

  Psyis returned to the fight with a vengeance, the ball of mortar of rubble breaking more than a few bones as she'd hit back five times as hard.

  This time the one tumbling through the air was Crusher, finding the front end of one of the parked trucks that had hauled their missing toxin here. The thessian took satisfaction in knowing that it had bought her a second to breathe, air coming in weakly as her lungs demanded their oxygen back. Raising her hand, she continued the barrage with what was left.

  Crusher knew he was coughing up more than blood, the bitch had knocked the synthroid out of his guts with that. Grabbing the hood to use as a shield against the further debris that was sure to be coming Crusher turned. The deep dents and punctures as bits of rocks and more bricks connected told him it had been a bright idea.

  Taking the abuse as he tried to recover, the hoses connecting his roid-pack already filling with more of the potent drug.

  "Gonna crush your pretty little skull." The threat was growled out, Crusher activating the synth-roid vaporizers not wanting to waste time with his blood. The tubes built into his mouth flooding with the neon green fluid, which was immediately turned into a sickly green smoke.

  The maddening grin on his face widened as the fumes flooded his vision with each breath; It could enter his lungs, his eyes, and his skin. He would devote every part of his body to the drug that could win this battle, hands clenching unconsciously as he was already imagining tearing her purple arms off.

  Psyis drew a deeper breath as the feeling of pure rage emanated from Crusher. A brick wall to her powers of influence, the man to engrossed, reveling in the visions in his mind.

  Her dismembered body, the bits that would be dripping from his hands.

  The visions assaulted her as she tried to pull her mind back, instead desperately sending what remained of the room behind the smashed wall at her adversary.

  A bit of doubt crept into the thessian's mind which she quickly washed away, such things dangerous for the mentally strengthened species.

  He can hurt me but he's not dangerous; this isn't getting dangerous.

  Psyis told herself repeatedly as she watched the last few bricks go flying by, slamming into and through the truck hood shield.

  Sure, originally, she should have been tangling with The Quiz, but lacked the protective gear needed to dive into the clouds of toxin. Something Dark Squire hadn't spared the time to give her. The power spent maintaining a shield or clearing the air was now being dedicated to managing their newest arrival.

  Dark Night had to leave Crusher in her hands as he went to reign in Dark Squire's enthusiastic charge.

  The sound of metal tearing and the grunts that followed was a tiny satisfaction, still, she knew she was doing far less damage to the massive brute behind that hood than she hoped.

  Psyis stood shakily but confidently, her side still complaining every time she took a full breath. If it got too bad she would just need to stop holding back and start breaking his bones, even Crusher couldn't fight without his kneecaps. Psyis stood straight, trying to make the slight groan that escaped her sound at least half as combative as Crusher's blatant threats about her skull.

  Pulling her energies back from the man's mind completely Psyis willed herself into the air, unwilling to let Crusher force her to walk back into this fight. Clearing the building she saw the ex-wrestler now super-villain, the deep exhale of green gas telling her they were both just getting warmed up.

  Two massive fists collided together as the wrestler stood on all four of his legs ready to face her and completely oblivious to all else.

  All four?

  Psyis froze a bit more coherent than the villain overdosing on synth-roids though it didn't take him much longer to catch on. The heroine quickly recalled they'd not been the only ones who'd arrived and caused the villains issues, though whatever had clued Crusher in had taken a bit longer. The two adversary's eyes still both went wide just not at the same moment.

  Psyis because she could see the legs of somebody standing on their tip toes behind the hulking chemical user.

  Crusher's eyes went wide just as he heard a snarky voice behind him. The surprise was clear on his face, dumbfounded that someone had managed to get behind him while rolling on pure liquid synth.

  "Thank god for advanced alien technology." Izime snarked before snapping his fingers together, finally satisfied enough to leave. The battery brick had completely drilled its hateful little gears into the synthetic supply unit on Crusher's back and locked its feet. Now it was just a waiting game and another problem would be solved.

  Izime sat down, relaxing on a roof a great distance away, far enough even his vision was useless.

  It was best to play his cards a bit closer around the psychic, so the rest was up to Cradle who had already been detected. Once again though Izime had been left to do the heavy work, it was something he'd need to remind the bird of.

  Psyis watched as the green fumes sputtered out, a cascade of sparks dropping from behind Crusher whose roid-pack was malfunctioning.

  The wrestler reached behind him uselessly for something to grip onto. Green masked eyes gave the psychic in front of him a pleading look as their fight had been interrupted, as if she'd save him just to continue. The alien's muscles were still tense, her eyes drifting to the side where a black raven sat on what remained of the truck as if waiting for something.

  Occasionally looking at her, sometimes bobbing its head or preening, but still there waiting.

  "N...no, my synth, I.. can't." Crusher gurgled out through the feeling of his drug-fueled body slowly powering down, even feeling like the roids already in his veins were being siphoned away. Falling to his knee he reached behind him, finally managing to get a grasp of his backpack unit, ripping it free. The little synth still in his system finally settled as the hoses were ripped out.

  With a weakened roar Crusher tipped to his side, collapsing onto his arms as he threw the supply unit in front of him.

  Desperate to access whatever had been damaged, maybe even save a few vials of synth-roid to stay in this fight. Instead of finding the massive damage he expected: crushed tanks, smashed panels, and leaking and severed lines there was only a small brick. The device hummed and gurgled angrily as a little bar on its side flashed a bit faster, the light slowly trying to fill the gauge.

  Crusher imagined the arms set into the pack were impossible to budge even if he'd been able to properly grip the tiny thing.

  Giving a quick glance at the psychic who was just as confused as he was Crusher glanced over at the only other creature he could accuse. There it was its eye holding a spectrum of colors that rotated around and finally seemed to settle on bored. The damned bird that FearForm and The Quiz had originally called him over for, the one their squads couldn't bring down.

  It gave a lazy flap of its wings as it tilted its head, preening a few feathers while it sat just watching. For all the fighting, shooting, and destruction it looked like it was just waiting on a treat.

  "Wh..at are yo..u?" The wrestler groaned as his body began to shut down from the sudden lack of synth, the too-natural raven's cry that came as a reply was downright insulting.

  Mocking him as it played pretend, insulting him just that bit further before, going silent once more.

  Psyis' attention followed her enemies, her eyes on that 'nothing' that simply looked like a 'raven'. Never withdrawing them even as Crusher finally collapsed nearly lifeless. Her mind recalled those extra feet and this other nothing, their psychic forms conflicting with what she actually saw. Psyis' mind reeled at the void where her eyes clearly saw a figure the entire thing confusing her senses.

  Lowering herself slowly to the ground Psyis gave a slight start when the raven moved, gliding over to the roid-pack that Crusher had tossed. Watching warily as it hopped around for a moment, a brilliant blue light shot out of its eye as it began to scan the device. Taking a careful step towards the bird, the raven's head snapping up towards her.

  Raising her hands Psyis carefully took that step back, the dozen or so feathers that had just begun to angrily hum around the bird slowly setting back into its plumage.

  It wasn't here to make friends not even willing to let her approach it, that was for sure.

  "MONEY!" Cradle tilted its head back, letting out its anger at what Izime was telling it to do. Izime demanded it hurry, not even letting Cradle scan the thing.

  Cradle knew it was a good bird already it was a smart bird already, what it wasn't was a fat bird! Money made food and food made fat, and this thing was definitely worth money. It was obvious this thing was worth quite a bit too, even if it went against the rules. Cradle stomped, clawing at the pack and scarring its surface with its tiny metal talons in frustration.

  Izime had already gotten them involved in fixing Stupid Purple's mistake, taking this thing was their reward. It was Cradle's reward; it wanted the fat pack!

  Now Izime was telling him to only take the battery? There was so much food to be had, and it was...

  Cradle flicked its beak back down, snagging the battery brick with its talon and deactivating it casting an ugly look towards the source of tonight's troubles and cawing hatefully. "STUPID! PURPLE!"

  "What the fuck?" Psyis whispered. A soft breath escaped as she watched that form disappear visually the void never resolving in her mind's eye.

  The thessian actually felt her mind draw a blank for once as the bird seemed to address her directly, insulting her before flying away with a small block in its talons.